


The Thorn on the Rose

by misslucyjane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucyjane/pseuds/misslucyjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel have flirted with their attraction for months, but then the Apocalypse had to go and start and Castiel was exploded by an archangel. Now Castiel is back: a little fiercer, a little stronger, as inscrutable as ever. And they have a lot to talk about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thorn on the Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Kinks: M/M slash. Oral sex. Anal sex. Claiming. Trust games. Food/feederism. Caretaking. Mild bondage.
> 
> Spoilers for season 5. Written for kink_bigbang. Thank you to skidmo, twelve_pastels and cali0623 for beta. Title is from "Come Along" by Titiyo.

The first time Dean kissed Castiel was in a parking lot. The air smelled like snow and the night wind was bitingly cold, and Dean acted without thinking — he just grabbed and yanked and mashed their mouths together, stopping another lecture about his destiny in mid-sentence. Castiel stiffened and breathed in hard through his nose, his lips parting, seemingly more out of surprise than desire.

Dean meant it to be a shock, something to force the words away, but then Castiel's lips opened and his tongue, tentative and shy, flicked against Dean's mouth. Dean thought, _Okay, time to stop,_ but instead he found Castiel's hips under his raincoat and suit jacket, and Castiel was clutching at his hair, and he pushed Castiel against the Impala and let their bodies rub together until Castiel turned his face away.

Dean stood there, stunned and aroused and aching for him — his lean body and sweet lips and sea-salt scent. He wanted to bury himself in Castiel, kiss him until the world spun on without them, breathe him in, taste him from tongue to toes.

They breathed together.

Castiel's fingers moved through Dean's hair before he gently withdrew his hands and left in a swirl of wind and the sound of wings. Dean blinked, confused as ever when Castiel just disappeared that way, and then swore in frustration and went back into the hotel room, not bothering to keep his noise low so that he didn't wake Sam. Dean started the shower, yanked off his clothes and jerked himself roughly until he came, Castiel's name on his lips.

He tried not to think about what had come over him — you don't just go around kissing angels! — and decided it was just a momentary lapse, some kind of internalized gratitude towards Castiel for saving him manifesting as attraction, and they'd forget it about next time they saw each other.

Except Dean could see in Castiel's eyes that he hadn't forgotten, the next time Castiel came to him, and he knew Castiel could see that he remembered, too. Castiel's eyes flitted to him every time Dean inhaled or licked his lips, and Dean kept getting distracted with the shape of Castiel's mouth, with the way his collar rubbed against his neck. Castiel smelled so good, like the clean air of the open highway when there was no one around but themselves and the only sound was the engine of the Impala, and his eyes were so clear and trusting, and Dean could taste the memory of him, and his voice was urgent and gravelly and Dean had no idea what he was saying, he only knew it was time to stop him and there was only one way to do it.

This time it wasn't just a kiss — it was making out, it was necking, it was biting and sucking and touching their tongues together, until once again Castiel turned away, trembling as if he couldn't believe they'd been so reckless again.

"Dean," he said, and the rough texture of his voice made Dean shiver down his back. "Don't distract me."

"Okay, Cas," Dean said and moved so that there was a table between them and he could fucking concentrate.

Fortunately — no, it was a good thing, really — there was business to attend to that night and when Dean finally got to bed, he was too exhausted to think about kissing Castiel.

That was the second time.

The third time was not dramatic. It was fast and desperate, just before they entered Chuck's house, Castiel's mouth hard on Dean's lips and his hand twisted into Dean's shirt. At the time Dean thought, _This is just the beginning_, but later realized it was a kiss goodbye.

***

When he saw Castiel in the storage container, Dean wanted to grab him, ravage his mouth for a while and demand what happened.

Instead he watched Castiel kill two angels and make Zachariah heal him and Sam, and then Castiel was gone again, sudden and mysterious as ever. Answers would not be forthcoming any more than they had been before, and Dean, when he had the time to think about it (which was not for many hours, not until after he walked away from Sam) wondered if what had come back was Castiel or another being who wore Jimmy's face.

Dean lay in bed, his eyes open in the dark, mulling over all that had happened since he last had a chance to think. In the other bed, Sam slept — or didn't sleep, Dean suspected, given the rhythm of Sam's breathing. This was the trouble with honesty: you still had to deal with the consequences, and there was no glossing over what had been said. Not until tomorrow, anyway. Maybe.

_Man up and deal,_ Dean thought, but he couldn't just toss a joke at Sam and make it all better. And he certainly wasn't going to apologize for being honest, either.

In the other bed, Sam rolled onto his stomach and heavily sighed. Dean listened to Sam shift positions a few times more, punch the pillow and fluff the bedding, and then when Sam was still again Dean tossed his own blankets aside. "I'm going out," he said and picked up the jeans he'd been wearing for three days now.

"Out where?" Sam said, and Dean smiled grimly at the suspicion in Sam's voice.

"Out." He put on jeans, boots and jacket, picked up the keys and said, "Try to stay out of trouble," before he went out the door. He expected Sam to shout something back at him, but there was only silence behind him.

Dean walked to the Impala and then walked past it and followed the sidewalk to the first open bar he saw. It was darkly lit and smelled of spilled beer. A jukebox faintly played a country song, and the few remaining patrons didn't glance up from their mugs or games of pool. Dean ordered a beer and watched the men play, aware that the cash in his pocket was running low and he needed to get another credit card before much longer. On the other hand, if he tried a hustle tonight he'd probably end up in the alley, bloody or dead.

_Why not play for the fun of it?_ he thought. It wouldn't hurt just to keep his skills sharp, and the men at the pool table looked like serious players. Dean brought his beer to the table and asked if he could join. The other men acknowledged him with welcoming if not friendly nods, and racked up the balls to start a new game.

Dean had made just a few shots when he noticed movement out of the corner of his vision, but when he looked he saw no one. He played a few more rounds and when he looked up from the table, there Castiel was, rumpled and familiar. Dean paused, and when Castiel stepped around the corner again Dean said, "I'm out, sorry," and put away his cue.

It took a moment to find Castiel again — he had taken a booth in a shadowy corner and was visible mostly because of his raincoat. Dean slid into the seat across from him. "What's going on?" Dean said, leaning on the table. "Where have you been?"

"I had work to do before I could look for you," Castiel said and sipped from the glass of water in front of him. "I knew I would find you in a place like this. Some men go to confession when they are troubled." His eyes swept their surroundings. "You come to a bar."

"Yeah," Dean muttered. "Not the best day ever. I told Sam I can't trust him, and now neither of us really knows what to do."

"I don't know either," Castiel said, and Dean almost smiled.

"Yeah. We're all in the dark." They both were quiet a moment or two, sipping their drinks. Dean said finally, "Come back to the hospital with me. Bobby's been hurt."

"I know."

"Then you can do something for him?"

"No," Castiel said in a way that made Dean close his eyes a moment.

He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice when he said, "Why not? Hasn't he earned a little good will from Heaven?"

"I am cast out," Castiel said. "I am cut off. I am a wanderer without a home."

Dean leaned back in the seat. "What does that mean?"

"It means I cannot heal your friend."

"Okay," Dean said and swallowed hard. "So, what happened to you? Chuck said you died."

"I did."

"So how are you back? And don't disappear on me again," Dean added through gritted teeth, and Castiel had another sip of water.

"I will not disappear." Castiel glanced at the pool table. "Was it a good game?"

"The world is ending and you want to talk about the _game_?" Dean said, incredulous, but at Castiel's look he said, "Yeah, it was fine, they were fun to play against."

"I like watching you play." Castiel sipped.

Dean frowned at him, and then drank a gulp of beer. "You're not going to tell me what happened to you, are you?"

Castiel put down his glass. Someone had scratched "THE END IS NIE" into the surface of the table, and he traced the letters with his fingertips. He said quietly, "The archangel came. There was pain, the worst pain I have ever felt, and then there was nothing. And then — I don't know how much time passed — then I came to myself again. I felt my grace fill me, and then I felt this flesh enclose me." He looked at his hand, opening and closing it a few times as if he wasn't quite sure his fingers would still work. "The sword was in my hand and I was sent directly to you, and that is all I know."

"Somebody was looking out for you."

"More likely someone was looking out for you," Castiel said and Dean looked down at the table. "You are still the only man who can stop it."

"Yeah," Dean muttered, "because I'm Michael's meat suit. Fuck that. Is that why you're here? Strong-arming wouldn't work so your bosses sent you to talk me into it?"

"Even if I were, I wouldn't succeed. You are not easily talked into anything."

"Then why are you here?"

Castiel's gaze fell to Dean's lips so intentionally Dean thought he wouldn't have felt it more if Castiel's had rubbed a thumb over his mouth. He licked his lips and Castiel met his eyes again.

"I wanted to watch you play pool."

And then he was gone, leaving only his glass of water behind.

Dean sat there, blinking with confusion, and then finished his beer and went back to the motel. He let himself in, took off his boots, jacket and jeans and crawled into bed.

"Where have you been?" Sam muttered from the other bed.

"Playing pool," Dean said and turned onto his side, his back to Sam.

***

The night Sam left, Dean checked himself into a motel and lay awake with the TV on. He missed Sam, he missed Castiel — he missed Ellen and Jo for that matter. He wanted people around him, people who knew him and cared about him and whom he cared about, and he couldn't remember the last time he felt this alone and abandoned. He didn't even have a way to contact Castiel, and God only knew — _No, not even God,_ he thought grimly — no one knew if Castiel would come if Dean called him.

His cell phone rang and he snatched it up. "Sam?" he said, hating the hope in his voice.

"No. It is Castiel."

"Cas," Dean whispered and passed his hand over his eyes. As much as he wanted to hear from Sam, hearing Castiel's voice made his heart beat a little faster and sent warmth throughout his body. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Where are you?"

"I'm in — hold on." He turned on the light and pulled over the little notepad by the phone, which had the address of the motel printed on the bottom. He read it off to Castiel. "Cas. Sam's gone."

"I will be right there," Castiel said and the line went dead. In a moment there was a knock at the door. Dean got out of bed and opened it, and wrapped his arms around Castiel without a word. "Dean," Castiel whispered, his palms warm and soothing as he stroked Dean's back, and Dean buried his head in Castiel's neck.

He didn't sob, but he felt on the edge of it as he breathed in and out in slow, shuddering breaths. Castiel said nothing, but held him tight the entire time, his hands moving from Dean's back to his hair to the back of his neck to his waist, over and over, as if he couldn't hold Dean tight enough.

Finally Dean raised his head and stepped out of Castiel's arms. "Sorry."

"For what?"

Dean wasn't sure, really. "Just — I don't know — unloading on you like that."

Castiel's brows furrowed. "It is all right to express grief, Dean. I would worry if you didn't."

"Yeah, but —" He threw up his hands and turned away. "You know what? I'm not in the mood for a heart-to-heart tonight."

"All right," said Castiel. "What would you rather do?"

"Anything," said Dean. "I don't want to think."

"You are in need of comfort," Castiel said and took off his coat.

"I am in need of a distraction. We should go get drunk. Or I'll get drunk and you can keep me out of trouble."

"I have another idea," said Castiel in his mild way. "Do you trust me?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"It is a simple question."

"It's not a simple question, Cas," Dean said wearily. "And it's really not a simple answer."

"Yes or no," said Castiel.

Dean looked away, then said gruffly, "More than most people."

"But not completely," Castiel said. "If I asked you to trust in me, would you try?"

"Cas, I really don't know what you're getting at and I don't think I want to know, so let's drop it, okay? Let's go to a bar. Let's do shots." He bit his lip, trying not to imagine licking salt from Castiel's neck.

"Let's stay," Castiel countered. "Let me comfort you."

Dean gazed at him, then swallowed and dropped his eyes. "Okay," he said and looked up again, through his lashes, and Castiel returned his look with one that was hot and dark enough to make Dean shiver. "What, um, what do you have in mind?"

Castiel smiled his small, mysterious smile. "Take off your jacket and boots."

Dean hesitated, then did so, rolling up his socks to tuck inside his boots, hanging his jacket over the back of a chair beside Castiel's. He started to take off his t-shirt as well, but Castiel put a hand over his to stop him.

"Sit on the bed," Castiel said. Dean did, utterly confused by Castiel's intentions, and his eyebrow shot up when Castiel knelt at his feet and opened a small bottle of lotion. Dean didn't ask where it had come from, and stifled a chuckle when Castiel squeezed a little onto his hands and rubbed them together. Dean outright moaned when Castiel began to rub the lotion into his feet.

"Shit, Cas," he said softly, closing his eyes, "if this is what you mean by comfort, you can comfort me all night long."

Castiel chuckled and went on rubbing the lotion up Dean's legs, under the hems of his jeans. "I want you to relax."

"I'm relaxed," Dean said and let himself fall back onto the bed. "Oh, God, am I ever relaxed."

Dean heard him squeeze out more lotion. "I liked watching you play pool in the bar the other night. I wanted to watch you in your element."

"Sure, grimy pool halls are my element," Dean muttered, and moaned low in his chest as Castiel took his hand and began to rub lotion into it. It was his right hand, still sore from when he punched Castiel in the jaw. Was that only a few days ago? It felt like a year had passed. "That feels good."

"I am glad." He was quiet, rubbing lotion gently into each knuckle and the tips of Dean's fingers. "I like to watch you move," Castiel said. "You are … comfortable in your skin."

Dean huffed and swallowed. "Somebody told me recently that I'm not what they expected."

"Somebody had expectations that no real person could live up to." He took up Dean's other hand to give it the same treatment, rubbing in lotion, gently massaging all the sore spots.

"Cas?" Dean said and opened his eyes. Castiel's dark head was bent over his hand, he frowned in concentration, and he did not look up when Dean spoke. "Why us, Cas?"

"I thought you didn't want a heart-to-heart."

"You're not the only one who can ask complicated questions." He gripped Castiel's hand abruptly, causing Castiel to finally look up. "Why me? Why Sam? Hell, why even you?"

Castiel sighed and shifted position to sit cross-legged on the coverlet. "It is the blood," he said finally. "It was in your father, and his father, and his father before him, back through many generations. Your family brought together two bloodlines in a way that has rarely happened: hunter and vessel. Interesting things were bound to happen."

"So my dad," Dean said, "if he'd done like Alastair said, if he'd been the one to start all of this, you'd be looking after him instead of me. He'd be the vessel for Michael."

"I believe so," Castiel said.

Dean dropped Castiel's hand. "And he'd be the one you'd be tending to."

"No," Castiel said, shaking his head. "I think it would still be you." Dean frowned at him and Castiel gave him a small smile. "Always underestimating yourself," he said softly, and then leaned over Dean, supporting himself with one hand flat on the mattress. Dean looked up at him and had an image of Castiel's mouth wrapped around him, Castiel's long fingers stroking into him. He nearly moaned aloud.

Instead he whispered, "You didn't tell me, why you?" and licked his lips.

"Because," Castiel said softly, "I gripped your hand and pulled you from the pit, and you looked at me much like you're looking at me now."

"How am I looking at you?" Dean whispered and Castiel smiled a tiny bit.

"As if you would like to devour me."

Dean pushed himself up, intent on capturing Castiel's mouth with his own, when Castiel thrust himself away and got off the bed. Dean exhaled to keep himself from groaning with frustration and barely refrained from begging Castiel to come back, kiss him, touch him, do _something_ to him, anything. His body shivered with need, his cock ached, his mouth felt positively bereft.

He cleared his throat and said, "You know, I've just realized something. No Zachariah to answer to, no more garrison. You're free."

Castiel paused a moment before he answered. "I would not say I am that free. Someone brought me back for a purpose. I don't know what it is yet."

"Who do you think that was?" Dean said, frowning again. Was it another enemy they'd have to fight? It was too much to hope they'd have another ally.

Another silence. Dean opened his eyes to look at Castiel, who now stood before the window, his body slim and almost ethereal in the moonlight. For a moment Dean's eyes stung — he was just _beautiful_, and he looked fragile and tired and human, just for a moment.

And then he turned, and he was Castiel again. He said, "I believe it was my Father."

Dean inhaled. "Zachariah said God has left the building."

"Zachariah is not omniscient. Nor is he as powerful as he believes himself to be."

"Yeah," Dean said, "and you kind of kicked his ass without breaking a sweat." Castiel now had a mild smile. "Thank you. For that. For everything."

"You are still in my charge," Castiel said simply.

Dean hesitated, and then stood up from the bed and joined Castiel in front of the window. "I am?"

"You are. I am still your guardian. I am still charged with encouraging your obedience to God and His angels."

"I didn't sign up for being a vessel," Dean said. "I'll fight. I'll fight Heaven and Hell if I have to. But I won't — I can't — I'm not just a meat suit, Cas!"

"No," Castiel murmured and his eyes swept over Dean in a way that made Dean's heart beat a little faster. "You are much more than that."

"Hey." Dean grabbed Castiel's hands and Castiel tightened his grip before meeting Dean's eyes. "Tell me what's going on."

"I have tested you many times," Castiel said. "You have never failed me. Never wavered. But still in the end, you refused."

"You know why!"

"Yes," Castiel said. "I know why. You do not trust the angels. Perhaps you are right in that. But you also no longer trust me."

"I trust you! I just don't know what you want from me."

Castiel stepped closer to him, and Dean gripped his hand tighter as Castiel crowded him across the floor until his back met the cool glass of the window. "I want," Castiel said, his voice at its gruffest, "you to surrender."

Dean could feel his heart hammering in his chest at Castiel's proximity, all the adrenaline of the day dumping back into his system at the promise of a new outlet. He whispered, "To Michael?"

"To me," Castiel said and kissed him roughly, his hands releasing Dean's to grasp Dean's hips. His fingers dug into Dean's muscles and his tongue swept over Dean's lips. Dean moved his hand to Castiel's neck and gripped his hair. He parted his lips and touched Castiel's tongue with his own, and groaned as Castiel's tongue flicked deep into his mouth.

They stood there in the moonlight, kissing fiercely and groping at each other, until finally Castiel pulled away. His eyes were wide and his thin cheeks were flushed. He whispered, "Would you obey me, Dean?"

Dean swallowed. "I —"

"Do you trust me?" Castiel said and leaned their bodies together, hip to hip. Dean moaned at the heat he felt radiating from Castiel's body.

"I'm trying," he whispered, and Castiel made a soft sound and kissed his forehead.

"Promise me you will continue to try."

"Okay," Dean said, sighing. "I'll try. It's not about the angels, Cas, it's not even about Heaven and Hell and the end of the world. It's just — you. Just you."

"It is also just you," Castiel said and kissed his forehead again. "And the things you make me feel. You make me understand things I never dreamed of. I didn't know what to think the first time you kissed me. I never felt desire so strongly before. It overwhelmed me. It frightened me."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, and kissed Castiel again, light and gentle. "That wasn't what I wanted you to feel."

Castiel had a faint smile now. "What did you want me to feel?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to kiss you."

"I also wanted to kiss you. I didn't know that's what I wanted until you kissed me first."

Dean grinned. "So we're okay?"

"Of course we're okay. But I am still puzzling things out, Dean."

"If you want me to help you —"

"Yes," Castiel said. "I want you to help me, and I want to help you."

Dean huffed and moved out of Castiel's grip to flop onto the bed. "Enough, okay? Enough! I don't need your help. And I'm sick of talking."

"You are angry now," Castiel said.

"Yeah, I guess." He rolled onto his side, his back to Castiel, and pulled a pillow under his head.

The bed dipped when Castiel sat beside him. Dean closed his eyes and sighed as Castiel laid a hand on his back. "I wanted to comfort you and I made it worse."

"No," Dean said. "You didn't. You never do." He turned over and tugged on Castiel's shoulder until Castiel lay down with him. He felt as hot as if he were running a high fever, and Dean wondered if this was from trying to contain the energy of his true self. He took Castiel's hand and rubbed his fingers over Castiel's knuckles. "What are we gonna do, Cas?"

Castiel blinked at him sleepily."I want to make you trust me."

"You can't make people trust you. You can only prove you're worth it."

"Then I must prove it," Castiel said. He pushed himself upright but left his hand in Dean's a moment longer. "But another time. I will see you soon." He picked up his trench coat.

"Cas!" Dean said and Castiel paused to look at him. "Call me."

Castiel smiled a little and nodded, and left him. Dean groaned, frustrated and dissatisfied, threw off his jeans and crawled under the sheets to attempt to sleep.

***

They were driving back to the abandoned house from the brothel when Dean said, "I'm sorry it didn't work out, Cas." Castiel looked out the window and didn't answer, and Dean went on, "I mean, it takes time to fall in love, and if you're going out in a blaze of glory tomorrow . . ." He glanced at Castiel. "Expediency has to overcome romance, you know? It takes time to get to know someone. Get to understand them. Get to—" He glanced at Castiel again. "Trust them."

Castiel stirred. "I know you meant well. However, it is probably best I hold onto my virginity for a little bit longer."

"Yeah. I'm still sorry it didn't work out."

Castiel looked out the window again. "I believe I will go back to my original plan. I will wait for morning."

"That's a shitty plan, Cas."

"We tried yours. It did not work out. Unless you have another plan, I will sit quietly and wait for morning."

He was starting to sound annoyed, which Dean found both amusing and puzzling. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Plan B is sitting quietly and waiting."

At the house, Castiel wrapped his raincoat around himself and sat in the chair at the desk by the window. He seemed prepared to simply sit, and Dean thought as he sat on the stairs that there was no way he could let Castiel do that. Not if this was his last night alive.

"It's okay, you know," he said as he took off his boots. "It's okay if it takes a couple tries. I didn't lose my virginity the first time I tried to, either."

Castiel looked at Dean patiently.

Dean went on, taking off his socks and jacket as he spoke, "See, when I was sixteen I had this girlfriend. And we were crazy about each other the way that teenagers are, you know, hormones and shit. Well, you wouldn't know — everything feels big when you're a teenager, you know, everything feels amplified. So I was convinced she was the love of my life, basically, and we made each other all these Romeo and Juliet promises. 'I'd _die_ without you' and everything. But of course we were always on the move and I didn't know how long we'd have."

Castiel waited, his hands folded in his lap.

"So one night I took her out in the Impala and we were making out and it got heated, you know, there was groping. And I'd been carrying around condoms for almost a year, hoping I'd get to use them sooner or later, so I got one out and asked her if she thought she was ready, and she said yes so we got naked and fooled around some more, and then she took the condom and put it on me ..." He stopped again and smiled with nostalgia. "When nobody's touched you but yourself all your life, and then somebody else does for the first time, it's like fireworks going off. I watched her put the condom on me and I came, just like that." He snapped his fingers. "It was so embarrassing I couldn't talk to her for two days."

"I don't understand what you mean, you came," Castiel said. "I thought you were already there."

"Oh — coming, it's having an orgasm. It's called coming. I don't know why. Just one of those weird expressions we've got."

"I see," Castiel said, though he had that perplexed expression that said he didn't.

"Anyway, the next time we tried, we managed to do the deed." He winked at Castiel.

"You loved her," Castiel said.

"I thought I did. I loved her as much as you can love somebody when you're sixteen and don't know anything. Anyway, the next time I fell in love it wasn't as melodramatic. It was … quieter." He leaned his arms on his knees and looked at Castiel.

"Human love must feel very different from divine love," Castiel said at last. "There are no shades or colors to it. It simply is."

"I don't know," Dean said. "It's all the colors and shades that make human love interesting. It just all means one thing — wanting to protect the other person and keep them happy. How that's done, that depends on the kind of love it is."

Castiel considered this, and said finally, as if it had not occurred to him before, "You took me to the brothel to make me happy."

"I hoped it would. Failed miserably, but hey, we had a good laugh, right?"

"I laughed," Castiel acknowledged.

"There you go. One part of the night's mission accomplished."

"It's all right that we didn't accomplish the other part," Castiel said.

"It's a vital human experience, Cas," Dean said earnestly.

"I am not human, Dean." He looked out the window.

"Maybe not," Dean said, "but you that want the experiences anyway, right? Pain, wonder, friendship, discovery, rock music, cherry pie — all those things that make humanity unique. Right?" Castiel did not look at him. "There's got to be a reason why you care so much. Why you find us works of art."

"You are my Father's creation," Castiel murmured, his eyes focused on the darkness outside.

"And that's it? That's all you need?"

"No, Dean," Castiel said, finally turning his gaze to Dean, "it was the beginning. I have seen such pain." He paused and swallowed. "And I have seen such beauty. Such generosity. Such strength. And that's only in you." He bit his lip and looked out the window again.

Dean said softly, "Cas. I have a bedroll set up in one of the rooms upstairs."

"Perhaps you should sleep." Castiel stared out the window with determination.

"Sleep with me, Cas." Dean held out his hand.

Castiel looked at his hand, then up at Dean. "You are only doing this out of pity."

"No, no," Dean said. "I'm doing this because —" He sighed and admitted, "Because we want each other. We have for months. And if you're going to die tomorrow — which I really don't want to happen, I can't emphasize that enough — I want this memory." He stepped closer to Castiel, still holding out his hand. "I want this memory of you."

Castiel studied him, then put his hand in Dean's and rose from the chair. He followed the stairs behind Dean, his hand steady.

It was that warm hand that broke Dean's resolve to take things slow. Castiel had been afraid in the whorehouse — not just afraid, he'd been terrified — but he was not afraid now.

Dean stopped on the stair and pulled Castiel onto the riser with him. Castiel gazed at him calmly, and then inhaled when Dean pushed him against the wall. Dean looked at Castiel — his wide eyes full of trust and compassion, his lips starting to smile —and grabbed Castiel's tie. He yanked Castiel to him and kissed him, hard and rough.

Castiel made a muffled noise and wrapped his arms tight around Dean as Dean kissed him. Dean shoved Castiel against the wall so he could kiss Castiel harder and rub his body against Castiel's shamelessly. Castiel's hands moved from Dean's waist to his hair and he licked deep into Dean's mouth.

Dean pushed off Castiel's coat and suit jacket, yanked off his tie and started tugging at his buttons, kissing him desperately all the while. Castiel kissed him back, interspersing his soft moans with the occasional, "Dean," as he touched Dean's face and ran his hands over his shoulders and chest. He reached behind him for something to help him keep balance when Dean took him by the waist and lifted him up, and then he wrapped his arms and legs around Dean as Dean carried him to the room where he'd laid out his bedroll earlier.

Dean set him on his feet and kissed him again, and then knelt, pulling Castiel with him. Castiel came with him easily and let Dean lay him on the blankets, looking up at him, breathing hard. It occurred to Dean that he hadn't really asked if Castiel wanted it like this, and if he asked now they would stop and the last thing he wanted was to stop — and then Castiel wrapped his fingers in Dean's t-shirt and pulled him down for another deep, fierce kiss.

When they parted again Dean stripped off his shirt and then kissed down Castiel's chest as he unzipped Castiel's trousers and undid his belt. Castiel threw back an arm and arched his body, his chest heaving. Dean licked his hand and wrapped it around Castiel's dick, jacking him as they kissed again. Castiel held Dean's face and pushed into his hand as his moans became rougher. He made a soft helpless sound when Dean removed his hand.

"Dean," he whispered and tried to toe off his shoes, but Dean was in the way. Dean grinned at him and took off his shoes and socks for him, and then his trousers and boxer shorts. He kissed the inside of Castiel's leg and licked up to his inner thigh, and then looked up with a wicked smile when Castiel clawed at his shoulder.

"You want it bad, don't you," he whispered.

"Yes, Dean," Castiel gasped. His eyes were closed and he was smiling, wide and happy, so beautiful that Dean had to stop and stare. "Yes, I want it."

"You're the sexiest thing ever," Dean growled and spat onto his fingers. He pushed them into Castiel's ass and Castiel gasped and clutched at him again. He held Dean by the back of his neck and kissed him, touching Dean's lips with his tongue, as Dean thrust and twisted his fingers.

By the time he was keening a soft, "Dean, Dean, Dean," Dean figured he was ready and pulled his fingers out. Castiel pushed himself up onto his elbows as Dean knelt up to get a condom from his wallet, and fell back when Dean took his position between his legs. He watched Dean with enormous eyes as Dean lifted his legs up against his chest and rocked into him.

Castiel's body was tight and hot, and it took a few minutes for him to start moving in response, to raise his hips and relax enough for Dean to thrust into him deep. It helped when Dean wrapped a hand around his cock and began to jack him, and then he got into it, thrusting into Dean's hand, his leg muscles tight. Perspiration glistened on his skin and dripped from his hairline as Dean fucked him fast and rough, and Castiel clung to his shoulders and made helpless, hungry noises beneath him.

Castiel came fast and sudden, shouting, "_Dean_!" and Dean swept his fingers through Castiel's come and licked it from the tips. Castiel whimpered as he watched him, and then raised his gaze to meet Dean's and pulled him down, his hand gentle on the back of Dean's neck. He kissed Dean sweetly.

Dean shivered and planted his hands on the blankets, and let their foreheads rest together. Castiel wrapped his legs around Dean's chest and crossed his ankles, and held Dean's face as Dean thrust hard into him and came with a groan, his arms giving out so that he fell onto Castiel's chest.

Castiel slid one hand into Dean's hair and the other traced his spine. He sighed deeply.

Eventually Dean rolled away from him, got rid of the condom, pulled the blankets over them and lay at Castiel's side. He didn't know what to say, but Castiel didn't seem to need words. He watched Dean through sleepy eyes, a faint smile on his lips, and he touched Dean with light fingertips along his cheekbone and down his jaw.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered finally, and Castiel's fingers paused.

"Why are you sorry?"

"That was rougher than it should have been, the first time. I shouldn't have done that. I should have been gentler with you."

Castiel flicked Dean's earlobe. "If I'd wanted to stop you, I would have stopped you."

Dean relaxed and buried his face in Castiel's neck. He breathed in Castiel's scent — Castiel's own scent mixed with the scent of sex, of them — and felt Castiel's lips brush his eyelids as Castiel wrapped his arms around him. "So it's okay?"

"Yes. It's okay. I liked it."

"Good."

"I wasn't sure I would."

Dean snorted. "You thought I'd be bad in bed?"

Castiel shrugged. "I thought it would be … I don't know. I didn't think it would be so intense."

Dean grinned, wondering if he should feel so flattered. "Intense, huh?"

"Yes," Castiel said simply. "I am not often aware of my flesh. It is simply there. But I was very aware of it just now."

"That's kind of the point." He stroked Castiel's thick hair, still damp with perspiration. "Feeling it. Getting lost in it. When you're doing it right, the whole world goes away."

"Is that good, making the world go away?"

"Oh, Cas," Dean said quietly, "it's the best."

Castiel stroked Dean's chest with deliberate fingertips. "Is that why you do it?"

"I guess. And it's fun. And relaxing, sometimes. It just feels good, and there's so much in life that sucks—" He sighed. "Why not take a little joy when it comes my way, you know? Even if the girl or the guy hates me later for ditching 'em, in the moment it's worth it."

"No one could hate you," Castiel murmured and Dean huffed.

"Plenty of people do. Sam probably does."

"Sam is your brother," Castiel said. "He loves you."

"I love him too," Dean whispered and felt his eyes sting. "But I can't trust him anymore."

Castiel kissed his forehead. "Have faith."

"I don't know. It felt like goodbye." He closed his eyes as Castiel kissed him again, sweet and gentle, and ran soothing fingers through his hair.

"Try to have faith, Dean," he said. "I don't believe Sam is completely lost."

"Thanks," Dean whispered, and just lay quietly in Castiel's arms for a while, enjoying the gentle way that Castiel touched him. "Cas?"

"I am here."

"Are you sure you're okay with this? With me and us and everything?"

"I am okay," Castiel said. "I've wanted you for a long time, you know."

Dean smiled despite his worries. "I've wanted you for a long time, too."

"I am still learning what to do about it."

"You're learning fast," Dean said, grinning. "But if it makes you feel weird, you know, if you need time — I mean, you don't have to do anything you don't want —"

"I want this," Castiel interrupted him and made himself more comfortable against Dean's side. "But if you need additional reassurance we could have sex again, so that I may be certain it is what I want."

"Hey now," Dean began and then looked at him and saw him smiling. He nudged Castiel with his elbow. "You're getting better at teasing."

"Slowly," Castiel said and took Dean's hand. He held it to his chest and stroked the back, down Dean's arm. "Is that the memory you wanted, Dean?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't mind making more …" His eyes stung and he said gruffly, "I don't want you to die, Castiel."

"Then we will have to prepare properly," Castiel said. "But we will do that in the morning."

"Okay," Dean said. "In the morning."

***

After an hour of trying to force his dislocated shoulder back into the socket, Dean had to admit defeat. Usually he had Sam around to help with injuries like this, but now he had two choices: either go to a hospital and deal with the expense and the questions, or drive the two days to Bobby's and get him to help.

Or he had a third, he realized as he picked up his phone. He pressed Castiel's speed dial number, and Castiel answered after just two rings. "Yes?"

"Hi. It's me."

"Dean."

"Yeah. Are you busy?"

There was a silence. "Do you wish to … chat, Dean?"

"No," Dean said with a dry laugh. "I'm kind of in a jam and I need some help. Your help. Please."

"Where are you?"

Dean gave him the motel's address and the line went dead. Castiel was not skilled in phone etiquette yet, but Dean didn't mind for once since it meant Castiel was in the hotel room with him right away.

"Dean," he said and inspected him a moment. "You look horrible."

"I had a run-in with a werewolf and fell down some stairs. I dislocated my shoulder. I need your help getting it back into place."

Castiel frowned. "You know I can't heal you."

"I know. I just need you to shove."

"Shove," Castiel repeated. "That will hurt you."

"Yes," Dean said as patiently as he could, "but it'll only hurt like hell for a minute or two, as opposed to the last couple hours where it's hurt like hell with no end in sight. Please, Cas," he said as Castiel's expression didn't change from doubtful and concerned. "Help me."

"What do I do?" He stepped closer to where Dean was sitting at the end of the bed.

Dean took Castiel's hand and placed it on his shoulder. "Do you feel that? Where the bone is sticking out?"

"Yes," Castiel said, his fingers gently probing.

"Hold my back steady and push the bone back into place, as hard as you can. It should pop right back in." He hissed when Castiel's exploration prodded the sensitive outcropping of bone.

"I'm sorry," Castiel whispered. "Dean, I'm not certain I can do this."

"I need you to, Cas," Dean said, looking up at him, and Castiel swallowed and nodded. "Okay. Count of three. One, two — shit!" he shouted when Castiel shoved the joint back into place with a dry, hollow click. Spots swam in Dean's vision and he had to put his head between his knees while he steadied himself.

Castiel patted his back uncertainly. "Did it work? Does it still hurt?"

"It worked," Dean said. He picked up the beer bottle he'd opened earlier to cope with the pain and had a swig, then offered it to Castiel. The angel shook his head, still watching Dean with concern. Dean shrugged and had another drink, emptying the bottle.

He flopped back on the bed and looked at Castiel. "Do you want to stay a while?"

"Yes." Castiel hesitated, then removed his raincoat, followed by his jacket. He lay on the bed at Dean's side. "I'm sorry that you were hurt."

"Part of the job." Dean rubbed his eyes.

"Did you kill the werewolf?"

"Yeah," Dean muttered. "Yeah, I did. You know what sucks about killing werewolves?"

"What?"

"They're just people. They're unfortunate sons of bitches who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You still have to kill 'em because they're killing people, but it still sucks." He sighed, and then closed his eyes when Castiel laid a hand on his chest.

"Would you ... like to make love tonight?" Castiel said in a soft, uncertain voice.

Dean smiled despite himself. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I'm not sure I'm in the mood. I'd like you to stay, though, even if we don't."

Castiel nodded, and then gently pulled Dean to him, fitting Dean's back against his chest. Dean exhaled and relaxed against him, comforted by his heat and the scent of him, clean and salty like the ocean. He grunted as Castiel began to massage his sore shoulder, and Castiel's hand paused. "I am hurting you."

"Don't stop. It's a good hurt."

Castiel resumed massaging him with strong fingers. "I don't like to hurt you."

Dean whispered, "I know," and closed his eyes when Castiel kissed the back of his neck. "God, you feel good."

"Relax, Dean."

"Yeah," Dean muttered, "doing that …" He rolled his shoulders as Castiel's hand moved slowly down his back. Castiel pushed him forward so Dean lay on his stomach, and Dean moaned as Castiel's hands dug deeply into the sore places in his back. "You're gonna put me to sleep."

"Would that be terrible?"

"No," Dean said with a huff. "It'd be a change. Usually you keep me awake." He opened an eye to look at Castiel over his shoulder.

"I could do that too." He flicked the tip of Dean's nose.

Dean moved onto his back and pulled Castiel to him. He traced his fingers over Castiel's cheekbones, smiling when Castiel smiled. "Thanks for coming when I asked."

"You needed me. Of course I came." He leaned over, hesitated as his gaze swept over Dean's face, then kissed Dean's mouth. It was a gentle kiss, slow, as soothing as his hands had been moments before, and Dean pushed a hand into his hair and kissed him back.

They parted, and Dean whispered, "Stick around, please," as he gripped Castiel's shirt.

"Yes." Castiel slid his hand down Dean's side to massage the small of his back. Dean closed his eyes and couldn't keep back the moan that rose in his chest.

"How'd you learn to do this?"

"I'm learning as I go," Castiel said and kissed him again, his hand pausing.

"You pick it up fast." Dean arched his back and Castiel's hand pressed against the base of his spine. His fingers gently scratched and Dean shivered.

"Sit up," Castiel said and Dean pushed himself up, groaning a little. He quietly laughed as Castiel helped him take off his flannel shirt and the t-shirt underneath. Castiel frowned, the concerned expression coming back. "You have bruises."

"From falling down the stairs."

"You should have called me before you started the hunt."

"Next time I will. So is there a reason why you were taking off my clothes?"

"I thought I might put you to bed."

"And then what?" He touched his upper lip with the tip of his tongue and smiled.

Castiel shrugged, looking innocent. "And then I might watch you sleep. Maybe stroke your hair when you have bad dreams."

"Oh, yeah? Do you do that a lot?"

"Perhaps once or twice." He touched the side of Dean's face. "Or three times."

Dean pulled open Castiel's tie and unbuttoned his collar, concentrating on getting each button one by one. Castiel watched his hands and then looked up at him through his lashes. "Stop that," Dean muttered. "You know how pretty you are."

"I know nothing of the kind." He pulled off his shirt when Dean undid the last button, and Dean paused to look at him, enchanted with his skin and the fine path of dark hair down his chest.

"You," Dean said as he drew his hand along Castiel's shoulder, "are gorgeous. You're beautiful. I look at you and I want to do things to you that would make Michael's eyes pop out of his head."

"He would not like the things I do to his vessel," Castiel said, his skin starting to flush as Dean touched him.

"Hey." Dean poked his shoulder. "I am not his vessel. I'm nobody's _vessel_."

"No," Castiel said softly, "you are no one's vessel. You are entirely your own." He got onto his knees and crawled up Dean's body, making Dean lie back. Dean looped his arms around Castiel's neck and watched his face as Castiel lay on top of him. "But is there, maybe, a small part for me?"

"Yeah," Dean murmured, tilting up his face. "There's a place you fit just perfect." He kissed Castiel and rolled him onto his back, arms around his neck. Castiel undid Dean's jeans as they kissed, and reached inside to touch his stomach and slide his fingers along Dean's hip.

"Do you feel strong enough?"Castiel whispered, his fingers stroking though the hair on Dean's lower belly. "Do you need to rest?"

"I need to fuck you," Dean said and kissed him hard. Castiel groaned and his hand shook so hard he had to press it to Dean's back to get it to stop.

"Yes, I need that," Castiel whispered as Dean kissed along his shoulders. "I need you."

Castiel's hands stroked Dean's shoulders and slid into his hair, and Dean looked up for a moment to watch his face. Castiel looked more relaxed than Dean had ever seen, his lips parted and his eyes closed, as if he anticipated only pleasure, only good things. Dean moved up his body and kissed him, holding Castiel's jaw.

"Trust me?" he whispered.

"Always," said Castiel and his eyes opened to look up at Dean with so much warmth and tenderness that Dean's eyes stung. He kissed Castiel harder.

It hurt his sore shoulder to lean on his arms, so when Castiel wrapped himself around him and pulled him down Dean let him, let Castiel roll him into his side and start exploring him with his mouth. It was so much slower than last time — or the few times since, even, when they hadn't talked about it but had only fallen onto each other desperately and eagerly. This was deliberate, this was slow, as if Castiel couldn't be gentle enough with him.

And Dean had to admit, as much as he liked it rough and hungry, this slow thing wasn't bad. It let him stretch out and offer his body to Castiel, let Castiel kiss his hands and up his arms, slide his hands down Dean's legs and kiss his feet, let Castiel comb his hands through Dean's hair and kiss between his brows. And it let him touch Castiel, explore the compact, sleek muscles in his arms and back and legs, let him taste Castiel's body like he'd been wanting to since the first time they kissed.

Castiel pushed him onto his back and straddled him, his eyes wide and dark. "Let me? Can I?"

Dean held his hips. "Can you what?"

"On top of you," Castiel said and brought one of Dean's hands to his mouth to kiss his palm. "Is that possible?"

"You want to ride me?'

"Yes. I think so." He kissed Dean's hand again and looked at him through his lashes. "I want you to — fuck me. From below."

"God, yeah, we can do that." He pushed himself up and Castiel leaned down and they kissed. Castiel reached over him to pick up Dean's jeans and take his wallet from the back pocket. Dean leaned back and closed his eyes, and gasped as Castiel carefully unrolled the condom onto his dick.

"Tell me what to do," Castiel said softly, his hand still wrapped around Dean.

"Just, um, lift yourself up, and I —" He put his hand on top of Castiel's and held him by the hip with the other, and they both groaned as Dean slid into Castiel's body. Castiel let go of him and grasped the headboard, making soft sounds in his chest as Dean opened him. He bit down hard on his lower lip, and Dean whispered, "Let it out, babe. It's okay."

Castiel groaned, his eyes squeezed shut. The muscles in his thighs fluttered with effort as he rode Dean's cock, and he nearly sobbed, "Oh, Dean," as his body allowed Dean to push into him deep.

Dean kept the rhythm slow and steady, rocking his hips and gently stroking Castiel's legs and hips. He touched Castiel's face and Castiel sucked his thumb into his mouth. "God," Dean breathed as Castiel's tongue licked him and his hot, tight body trembled around him.

Dean didn't mean to come so soon — he wanted to draw it out, finish this as slowly and carefully as it had begun, but he came hard with his thumb in Castiel's mouth and his fingers digging into Castiel's hip. Castiel stooped over him, watching him and smiling as Dean's body shook and his cries died down. He took Dean's hand from his mouth and wrapped it around his cock. He breathed harder and thrust his hand into Dean's hair as Dean stroked him, hard and fast until he came, a look of wonder in his eyes.

He always looked like he couldn't quite believe it when he came. Dean didn't know why.

He pulled off Dean and lay on his back, limbs sprawling, and took Dean's hand. Dean held it and closed his eyes, aware that they were breathing in time.

Eventually he rolled onto his side and leaned his head on his arm. Castiel's eyes were closed, his thumb moving absently over the veins in Dean's wrist. "Hey. Still here?"

"I am here," Castiel said softly. "I think." He blinked slowly and Dean had to kiss him.

"Tell me something," Dean said as he lay back and pulled up the blankets against the night chill. "Do you sleep, Cas? Do you dream?"

"I do," Castiel said, settling against his side. "I rest sometimes. I close my eyes and I dream."

"Yeah?" He kissed Castiel's forehead and curled his fingers into Castiel's hair. "What do you dream about?"

Castiel was quiet a while. "Impossible things."

"Impossible things like what?"

Castiel said softly, "I … dream about a life of my own, mostly. Or home. I dream a lot about home."

"You must miss it."

"So much." He sighed. "It doesn't matter."

Dean looked at him. "What do you mean, it doesn't matter?"

Castiel looked up at the ceiling. "It doesn't matter. I don't know if I'm going to see it again. I must do other things than miss it."

"You're breakin' my heart," Dean muttered and rolled over to kiss him. "You'll get home. You'll get back to all those clouds and rainbows and unicorns …"

"There are no unicorns in Heaven," Castiel said, looking up at him. "I'm thirsty."

"Yeah? You expect me to do something about that?"

"Yes," Castiel said mildly, "I do. Please."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'll be right back." He rolled off the bed and pulled on his jeans, found the ice bucket and peered out the door, up and down the hallway. All the other doors were closed, so he scurried down the hall to the ice machine that hummed in a little alcove next to a glowing Coke machine. He filled the bucket and hurried back, wincing at the feel of the hard-packed carpet under his bare feet. He unlocked the door and said, "Honey, I'm home," when he let himself in.

He paused and looked at Castiel, who lay naked on the bed, long and slender and beautiful. Castiel turned over to look at him. "Such a good provider," Castiel said softly.

Dean let out a breath. "Do you want a Coke or anything? I think I have enough quarters. Unless you'd rather use them on the magic fingers." He waggled his eyebrows and Castiel shook his head.

"I only want water, please," he said, sitting up, and Dean nodded as he unwrapped the paper from the two glasses that had been in the bucket. He dumped a few cubes of ice into each glass and filled both of them from the faucet in the little kitchen attached to the room.

"Your water," he said formally when he brought Castiel his glass. Castiel took the glass, had a sip and leaned back against the pillows. He was unselfconscious naked, which Dean hadn't expected — he'd thought Castiel would be shy about his borrowed body. He lay on the bed beside Castiel and sipped his water, and watched Castiel watch him until he started laughing. "Oh, Cas, this is crazy."

"Perhaps. I have no complaints."

The way he was looking at Dean, his eyes so warm and hopeful, made Dean roll closer to him and lay an arm over his chest. "So when you dream about this life of your own, am I there?"

"Oh," Castiel said, and his eyes searched Dean's face before he smiled. "Oh, yes."

***

The investigation required them to be FBI agents again, and Dean had added handcuffs to his outfit just to help them seem more authentic. Castiel was fascinated with them, and ran his fingers around the inner circle over and over as they drove back to the hotel. Dean glanced at him throughout the drive, and finally said, "Dude, put your toys away."

"They are not toys," Castiel said gravely. "They are an instrument of law enforcement."

"Quit fondling them. It's weird."

Castiel put the handcuffs in his pocket, then glanced at Dean and slipped his hand into his pocket as surreptitiously as possible. Dean chuckled despite himself.

"Where do you want to eat?" he said, hoping to distract Castiel from the cuffs.

"I'm not hungry."

"You've got to eat sometimes, Cas. Do you want pizza?

"I think we should go to a grocery store."

Dean glanced at him again. Castiel looked as innocent as ever, but his hand was still slowly moving in his coat pocket. "You want something we can't get at a diner?"

"Yes. Diners are not bad, but sometimes I just want something I can sink my teeth into."

Dean managed not to moan out loud at the images Castiel's statement brought to mind, barely. He cleared his throat and muttered, "Okay," and wondered what he'd just agreed to.

He found a little market a few blocks from the motel and followed Castiel with a basket as Castiel sniffed strawberries and inspected packages of cheese. Castiel also chose his favorite brand of beer, and they smiled at each other.

It was a simple little meal, nothing that needed to be cooked, everything that could be eaten by hand, right down to the package of chocolate chip cookies. He said when they were back in the car, "It's late at night for a picnic."

"I don't plan to eat."

Dean huffed. "I just spent twenty bucks on food you don't even want?"

"I want to feed you," Castiel said, gazing at him.

Dean's mouth went completely dry. "Feed me, huh?" he said gruffly. "And why won't I be feeding myself?"

His expression completely deadpan, Castiel held up the handcuffs.

"Oh," Dean said faintly and drove to the motel as fast as he dared. Castiel walked serenely up the stairs, the paper bag from the market dangling from his fingers, as Dean took the stairs two at a time and waited, foot tapping impatiently, for him at the top.

"Impatient," Castiel chided him softly when he finally reached the landing.

"Horny," said Dean and put his hand on the small of Castiel's back to shepherd him into the room. He unlocked the door and all but pushed Castiel inside. He locked the door and leaned against it, and watched Castiel with a hungry gaze as Castiel unpacked the food in their little kitchen. He was meticulous: he washed the berries, unwrapped cheese, and opened the package of cookies before he even looked at Dean, who could only prowl around the little room, waiting for whatever Castiel planned to begin.

"So," Dean said finally. "Are you hungry after all?"

"All in good time." Castiel arranged crackers on one of the plastic plates he'd chosen. "Why don't you get comfortable?"

"Should I get undressed?" Dean tugged open his tie.

Castiel finally looked at him. "Not yet." He surveyed the spread and then brought the food to the bed and patted the coverlet. "Join me."

Dean sat beside him and took off his shoes, socks and jacket. Castiel watched him, and then took his face in one hand and kissed Dean sweetly, keeping his body away from Dean's hands.

Dean swallowed hard. "Seems like forever since we've had some time together."

"It has been six days, eight hours and thirteen minutes." He held a strawberry to Dean's lips. Dean looked at him a moment, then ate it from his hand and smiled before chewing and swallowing. Castiel watched him with that familiar, curious tilt of his head, much closer than usual. "Have I ever told you," Castiel said as he fed Dean another bite, "that I am very fond of your mouth?"

Dean shook his head. "No."

"I am." He touched Dean's lips slowly with his thumb. "It is yours and I love it." His hand slid around to hold Dean's face, thumb still caressing Dean's lips.

"Cas," Dean said softly. He closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against Castiel's palm, and then opened his eyes when Castiel removed his hand.

"Take off the rest of your clothes," Castiel said and pulled off his tie.

Dean did so, feeling unbalanced but eager and unsure of what to do with his hands. He was rarely naked in front of other men — his former encounters with men had tended to be rushed and fumbling, with little more than an exchange of names before they got down to business. Castiel didn't allow for him to be shy, though: he made no secret of the fact that he liked Dean's body, that he liked it dressed and that he liked it better naked and under his mouth.

Castiel watched him undress with the same curiosity Dean had seen him use with books he hadn't read, eyes traveling up the length of Dean's body, lingering over his groin. For a fleeting moment there was a non-angelic smirk on his lips. "You are already hard."

Dean rolled his eyes and positioned himself in front of Castiel. "I want you."

Castiel looked up at him, innocent except for a glint in his eyes. "You need to be touched."

"God, yes," Dean groaned and closed his eyes, shaking with anticipation, but no touch was forthcoming and he opened them again. Castiel was still looking at him, brows furrowed as if his cock were a particularly puzzling sentence in need of translation. "Cas."

"Trust me," Castiel said softly and placed a hand on Dean's hip. "I won't let you suffer, but you must trust me."

"I do, you know I do." He held Castiel's shoulder. "But please, blow me or something, it'll be so hot if you're dressed and I'm naked."

"The 'please' is nice," Castiel murmured and gently pushed Dean away from the bed so he had room to stand. Dean made a frustrated growl, and narrowed his eyes at Castiel when that brought another fleeting smile. Castiel picked up his tie and spun a finger. "Turn around."

"What are you going to do?"

"Blindfold you before I handcuff you to the bed," Castiel said, and Dean realized if he thought he'd been aroused before, that was miniscule in comparison to the rush he felt now. He turned, shivering, and closed his eyes as Castiel wound the tie around his head to cover his eyes. He knotted it at the back of Dean's head, not too tight, just enough to completely block out the already faint light in the little room.

Dean nearly shouted at the first touch of Castiel's tongue, just soft between his shoulder blades. His legs trembled and he had to part his lips to breathe, as Castiel's tongue slowly dragged over the outline of his dorsal muscles and the bones of his spine. "I love your freckles," Castiel murmured and Dean felt Castiel's hand slide around his ribs to hold him steady.

"Thanks," Dean muttered and cleared his throat. "I've got 'em everywhere. Please don't stop."

"I like it when you say please," Castiel murmured, right in his ear, and Dean felt his tongue trace the whorls. "I love that you have freckles here." His hand moved down to scratch at Dean's lower belly, making Dean's knees to shake. He reached out for something to keep his balance and Castiel guided his hand to the bedstead. "Don't fall."

"Won't," Dean whispered. "Hold me up. Won't fall."

"Always," Castiel whispered and kissed the back of his neck. "You know what I've only just realized, Dean? You don't know how well I know your body."

"What?" Dean said and had to clear his throat again.

"I put you back together," Castiel said, both of his hands on Dean's belly now, rubbing him in small, slow circles. "Every muscle and bone, every tissue and vein. It ... I think the expression 'broke my heart' suits. It broke my heart."

"Why?" Dean said, turning his head back towards the sound of Castiel's voice. His lips pulsed with the need to be kissed.

"Because I have watched you," Castiel said, his lips against Dean's cheek. "I watched you from the moment you were born until the Hell Hound ripped the life from you. I knew what was in store when I rebuilt you, and I feared for you. Of course," and Dean shivered at the small chuckle Castiel let brush against his skin, "as well as I thought I knew you then, I didn't know the force of your will."

"Too stubborn to die," Dean whispered.

"Too stubborn to stay dead long. This," he brushed a palm over Dean's back and Dean clung to the bed frame to keep from wrapping a hand around his cock, "has always been familiar territory. This lovely back, your shoulders, your chest, your feet …"

"What I really want to know," Dean said and cleared his throat one more time, "is where you learned how to do this."

"I watched," Castiel said and his hand finally wrapped around Dean's cock. Dean groaned and leaned back against him, letting his head fall against Castiel's neck. "Will you let go for me, Dean?"

"Yes," Dean whispered. Castiel kissed his cheek and stroked his cock slowly, gathering moisture from the head with his fingertips before stroking him tight down the shaft. Dean let his body rock into Castiel's grip, only Castiel's arm around his waist and Castiel's body behind his to keep him upright. He gasped Castiel's name and reached back to grip his hair, and ran his fingers through it a few times, enchanted with its softness.

"I erased every scar," Castiel whispered. "I put back your fingerprints. I left your tattoo, since it wasn't a reminder of pain." His other hand traveled across Dean's shoulder to grip his bicep, over the handprint he had left when he pulled Dean out of the pit, and Dean groaned. "I could not help this."

"It's okay, I don't care, it's okay," Dean babbled. He finally let go of the bedstead so he could hold Castiel's hip, and groaned again, louder, when he felt Castiel hard against his ass. "Cas —"

"Let go," Castiel whispered, his hand tight and fast around Dean's prick. "Let go for me, Dean."

"Cas," Dean groaned and his hips bucked, and his orgasm trembled through him, leaving him breathless.

Castiel laid him down gently on the bed, kissed his lips and removed the tie from his eyes. Dean watched him with sleepy eyes as Castiel licked the come off his hand. He wrinkled his nose. "You have been drinking too much coffee," he remarked.

"Yeah," Dean muttered and pulled on Castiel's shoulder to coax him down beside him. "Give me a minute and I can do — whatever —"

Castiel leaned on his elbow and looked down at him. "We have all night."

"I don't know if I can keep this up all night." He touched Castiel's face, fascinated with the rasp of his stubble and the heat of his skin.

Castiel kissed his palm and then brushed his lips over Dean's forehead. "I'm sure you could, given the proper inspiration."

"Oh, you're inspirational, all right." Dean blinked at him slowly. "I always wonder why you keep coming back."

Castiel chuckled. "Because I like to be with you."

"And I'm all you've got," Dean added softly.

"Yes. But I am all right with that."

"Are you, really?" Dean said and leaned his head on his hand. "You don't plan to fuck me into saying yes to Michael?"

Castiel blinked a few times and tilted his head. "I do not want to lose you," he said and slid his hand up Dean's ribcage. "I do not want to lose you to being Michael's vessel. If you said yes, you would no longer be Dean." He dipped his head and kissed Dean's chest. "Besides," he added in an even lower voice, "Michael would not appreciate the things I have done to you."

"Good," Dean said vehemently. "Keep doing 'em." Castiel chuckled and kissed his chest a few times more. He traced shapes and symbols onto Dean's skin, and Dean shivered at the sweetness of it, at the tenderness. He whispered, "You know I don't really think —"

"I know," Castiel said and kissed Dean's mouth, then sat up and unbuttoned his cuffs. Dean sat up as well and wrapped a leg around Castiel's hips, and slowly unbuttoned Castiel's shirt. Castiel dropped his hands and leaned back on them. The fabric of his shirt felt soft, as only to be expected at something that had been worn for the better part of a year.

They didn't speak as Dean parted the shirt and brushed his fingertips over Castiel's chest. He rubbed his fingers over Castiel's heartbeat and looked into Castiel's eyes. "I'm ready."

"Are you certain?" Castiel breathed slowly, his chest rising and falling under Dean's hand.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, Cas. I'm certain."

Castiel got onto his knees and kissed Dean, and turned him so that he lay back against the thin motel pillows. Dean swallowed hard as Castiel raised his arms over his head, and he couldn't hold back his gasp when Castiel clicked the cuffs shut around his wrists.

"What would you like first?" Castiel said, and Dean swallowed hard again.

"A drink."

Castiel opened a bottle of beer and held it to Dean's mouth, tipping it a little. Dean lapped at the bottle greedily, eyes on Castiel, and felt triumphant when Castiel's eyes grew darker and his face flushed. "That's enough," Castiel said and took the bottle away, and Dean let out a very un-manly whimper. Castiel picked up a strawberry and held it to Dean's lips. "Eat?"

Dean bit off the tip and chewed it, and then smiled at Castiel. "I've got to know what you've been watching to learn about shit like this."

"People," Castiel said, "for millions of years." He ate some of the strawberry himself, and nodded, looking impressed. "Modern people think they invented sex, it seems to me. But it really hasn't changed much."

"Yeah?" Dean said, more interested in the way Castiel's mouth moved than in what he was saying.

"Perhaps some of the technology has advanced." He picked up a cracker and put a little cheese on it. "But the basics remain the same." He held the cracker to Dean's mouth.

Dean ate it and licked his lips. "Another drink?"

"Yes." Castiel let him drink a few more swallows and then took the bottle away again. He went on feeding Dean slowly, cracker by cracker and a few bites of strawberry, alternating with some sips of beer, and Dean's hands clenched in the cuffs and his toes curled.

He was not at all surprised when Castiel idly traced his nipples with the tip of a strawberry, and moaned aloud when Castiel bent his head and started kissing his chest. "Cas," he breathed, and Castiel looked up at him with a small smile.

"All of this time, we have done many things together."

"Great things. Hot things."

"I have enjoyed them as well."

"Good," Dean said and his hips shifted. "You're supposed to."

"There is one thing we have not done." Castiel drew a long swirl over Dean's belly. "You have not let me have you."

"Oh," Dean said, ignoring the way his cock jumped at the suggestion. "Yeah, that's because I've never, um."

"You have had sex with other men before me," Castiel pointed out.

"There haven't been that many," Dean mumbled. "And I've never let anybody fuck me."

"And I'm on par with anybody?"

"No, of course not. It's just not something I'm ready to do, okay?" Castiel sat cross-legged and looked — not disappointed, exactly, Dean thought, but saddened — and Dean said, "I will do anything else you want. Anything."

Castiel looked at him a moment, then knelt over Dean's body and unzipped his trousers. "Suck me," he said and Dean parted his lips. Castiel's cock was hard and wet at the head already, and he eased slowly into Dean's mouth, his hand in Dean's hair, until he was buried in Dean's mouth. He followed Dean's lead well, really, moving his hips slowly until Dean's throat relaxed, and then he threw back his head and fucked Dean's mouth. He groaned loudly as Dean sucked him until Dean thought someone might come to check that he wasn't being murdered.

Dean looked up to watch Castiel's face, and smiled around Castiel's cock when Castiel looked down at his face. "Dean," Castiel gasped, "Dean!" and his eyes rolled back as he came, hot and thick, into Dean's throat. Dean closed his eyes and swallowed, and licked his lips when Castiel pulled away and fell heavily at Dean's side. He passed his hand over the handcuffs and they clicked open, and Castiel fell back with an exhausted groan.

Dean rolled onto him and kissed him, squeezing the muscles in his chest. He reached off the bed and grabbed another bottle, twisted it open and had a drink, and Castiel watched him through half-closed eyes and stroked his back. "Thirsty?" Dean whispered, and when Castiel nodded Dean held the bottle to his lips and poured some beer into his mouth. Castiel swallowed and then coughed, and Dean got off him so he could sit up. "Sorry, sweetheart. You breathing?"

"I'm all right," Castiel said and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm breathing."

"Good. I prefer it when you're breathing." He patted Castiel's back, then added quietly, "When I thought you were dead, I … I felt …"

"You missed me," Castiel said and touched his cheek. "It's all right, Dean."

"C'mere," Dean said gruffly and pulled Castiel to him. It was so much easier to kiss him than to talk about chick stuff like feelings and whatever. However inexperienced Castiel might be, he was a very good kisser.

When they stopped making out Castiel lay his head on Dean's chest with a contented sigh. Dean played with Castiel's ear and felt Castiel smile against his skin, and said softly, "When I thought you were dead —" Castiel opened his mouth as if to speak, and Dean said, "Please. I have to say this. When I thought you were dead," he went on, his voice starting to tremble, "I want to grieve you and I couldn't. I wanted to sit down somewhere and just … mourn you, and I couldn't." He inhaled. "I had to look after Sam and take care of Bobby and deal with this whole end-of-the-world thing ... but all I could think was you were dead and there was nothing I could do about it." Castiel looked up at him, his thumb brushing slowly over Dean's chest. Dean said, "So don't do that again. Don't die. It's kind of awful when you do and I'd really like you to stick around."

"Very well, Dean," Castiel said softly. He pushed Dean gently onto his back and started kissing his chest. Dean thrust a hand into his hair and closed his eyes.

"Cas?" he whispered as Castiel's tongue traced the muscles in his abdomen. "Fuck me." He swallowed hard.

Castiel stopped and looked up. "I thought you didn't allow anybody to do that."

"You're right. You're not anybody." He tried to smile, and found he could do it easily when Castiel beamed at him. Castiel kissed him and rolled him onto his back, and Dean wrapped his legs around Castiel's hips until Castiel slid down his body and kissed his legs to his feet. He kissed the bottom of Dean's foot, and then sucked on his fingers to wet them.

"Are you ready, Dean?" he said and in response Dean spread his legs and raised his hips. He groaned when he felt Castiel's fingers open him and tugged Castiel to him for another deep kiss.

"You're the only one I trust this much," he said and nipped at Castiel's lip, breathing deeply as Castiel stroked inside him. "You're the only one I trust at all."

"I love you," Castiel replied and kissed Dean. He withdrew his fingers and got onto his knees between Dean's thighs. "Do you have another condom?" he said quietly, and Dean could hear the struggle he was having to keep his voice calm and steady.

"Yeah. Hold on a sec." He rolled onto his side and picked up his trousers from the floor, got the condom, and gave it to Castiel, who looked at it as if he wasn't quite sure what to do next. "Do you want me to put it on you?"

Castiel nodded, swallowing, and shivered as Dean rolled the condom onto his cock. He took his cock into one hand and grasped Dean's hip with the other, and Dean raised his ass to meet him.

"Slow," Dean said and Castiel nodded, already trembling. He pushed into Dean slowly, swallowing hard enough that Dean could see his adam's apple bob, and Dean put his hand over Castiel's. "That's good," he breathed. "That's just right. God, you feel good, Cas."

Castiel smiled at him, uncertain and sweet at once. He leaned on his hand, and brushed his lips over Dean's forehead and the bridge of his nose and the dip under his lips. Castiel's hips moved slowly as Dean's body adjusted to him inch by inch. Dean pushed back, his breath hissing through his teeth, and they both gasped as Dean's body relaxed and Castiel slid deep into him.

"Oh. Oh, Dean," Castiel whispered and swallowed hard, "I understand."

"Understand what?" Dean flicked his tongue at Castiel's mouth.

"Why you love this." He closed his eyes and leaned their foreheads together. The muscles of his back bunched and smoothed under Dean's hands as he slowly began to rock his body. "Why people — oh, _Dean_ — love this."

Dean reached back to grab a pillow. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yes. Yes." He bent his head to kiss Dean's chest. "It feels — it feels like —"

"Hot," Dean breathed. "Slick."

"Yes. Hot. But more." He twisted his hips and Dean groaned, his legs shaking. "It's just, I'm inside you." He touched Dean's belly. "I'm inside you."

Dean put his hand on top of Castiel's. "It's weird, isn't it?"

"It's miraculous," Castiel whispered, his eyes wide with wonder and dark with lust. "Two beings," he rubbed their mouths together, breathing through parted lips, "existing in the same place at once."

Dean moved his leg up over Castiel's shoulder. "Yeah," he said again and touched Castiel's face, from the angle of his cheekbone down to his lips. Castiel watched him, still moving slowly and carefully as if he was afraid to do more, and Dean rocked his body until Castiel gasped. "You can do it harder," he said, cupping the back of Castiel's neck with both hands. "It's okay. It's okay now."

Castil kissed the inside of Dean's arm and started thrusting harder, his eyes closing. "Oh, Dean," he breathed again. "Oh, _Dean_."

"That's it, baby," Dean said, caught between moaning and laughing. He grabbed Castiel's hand and wrapped it around his dick. Castiel got the idea fast and started jacking him hard, his hand slick with sweat. Dean pushed into his hand, his fingers in Castiel's hair, and muttered, "Yeah, Cas, this feels so good, you're doing it just right." He kissed Castiel and hooked his legs over Castiel's hips, and Castiel's rhythm became desperate, erratic, his kisses with more teeth. "Come on," Dean whispered, "come on!" and Castiel threw back his head and snapped his hips and fell onto him.

Dean held him with his arms and legs. He rubbed his lips agasint Castiel's damp hair. His cock was trapped between them, still hard and aching, but for the moment he just wanted to feel Castiel's weight warming him.

After a moment or two Castiel pushed himself up and kissed his mouth, pulled off the condom and then slid down Dean's body and onto the floor, his tongue dragging along the lines of Dean's muscles. Dean grabbed the nearest pillow and said, "Cas," as Castiel kissed his hip.

"You taste so human, Dean," he whispered and licked Dean's cock into his mouth.

Dean groaned and gripped Castiel's shoulder, and then Castiel's hand as it slid up his chest. Castiel clung to his hand as he sucked him, his fingers trembling. Dean moaned, struggling to keep his voice low, and his hand tightened around Castiel's as his neck arched and he came.

Castiel pulled back and wiped his mouth. He smiled at Dean and climbed back onto the bed, chuckling softly when Dean draped himself over his hip and shoulder.

Dean dozed, shivering, and smiled when he felt Castiel pull a blanket over him. He opened his eyes just enough to see Castiel watching him, that faint smile in his eyes. Dean stroked his hair with a heavy hand. "What did I do to deserve you?" he whispered, and Castiel took his hand to kiss his palm.

"Nothing," Castiel said. "Everything." He played with Dean's fingers, his expression contemplative. "Dean. Why do you think love is something to be earned?"

Dean blinked a few times. "What?"

"You think I'm with you because of something you did, like I'm a reward for good behavior."

"You of all people know my behavior isn't very good," Dean said and tried to smile.

"Your behavior isn't who you are. I mean," he said at Dean's scoff, "you always think of the questionable things that you do as if they define you, and they don't."

"So what does define me?" Dean said gruffly. "My good deeds?"

"The real you defines you," Castiel said mildly. "I know the real you. I've held your heart in my hands."

"Oh," Dean said and swallowed. "Then you of all people should know I'm not — you know. Perfect. Or even all that good. So that's why I ask, you know?"

Castiel sighed and reached for Dean's hand. He ran his fingers over Dean's palm and between his fingers, his touch particularly tender over half-healed cuts and swollen knuckles. "I love this hand," he said softly. "This is a good hand. I healed this hand, all the scars and crooked fingers. And now look at it. It's just as worn as it was before."

"I'll fire my manicurist," Dean said.

Castiel glanced up at him with a faint smile. "This hand only wants to do good. I have seen it strong and I have seen it gentle, and I know what it's capable of."

"Yeah," Dean said and reached over to run his knuckles along Castiel's jaw. Castiel pressed Dean's hand to his lips.

"This is a beautiful hand to me. I think I'll keep it."

"What?" Dean said with a laugh.

"It's mine. I want it."

"Oh, okay," Dean said and rolled his eyes. "You want my hand. Okay."

"Yes," Castiel said solemnly, and held Dean's hand between both of his own. "It is mine now. I claim it."

"What if I need it?" Dean said, playing along.

"I may lend it back." He kissed Dean's thumb. "On the condition that you take better care of it from now on."

Dean said softly, "Okay. I'll take better care of it."

Castiel smiled and bent over Dean's hand again, caressing him with his long slender fingers. "Does your heart belong to me?" he said and looked up at Dean.

Dean nodded and swallowed hard. "Yeah."

He picked up Dean's other hand. "And this? May I also have it?"

"Yeah," Dean whispered and started to smile. "It's yours."

"And your mouth," Castiel said. "I would like that as well."

"Dude, it's yours," Dean said and tugged Castiel to him for a good long kiss. "You want me, you've got every part of me."

Castiel rested their foreheads together. "I will take good care of them."

"I know," Dean whispered, and then said in a more teasing tone, "Guess this is how you finally get my obedience, huh? Claim my body and bend me to your will."

Castiel said in an amused tone, "You are not very good at obedience, Dean."

"Part of my charm."

"Yes," Castiel said. "It's part of your charm." He lay at Dean's side and leaned his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean kissed his forehead. "You want to know why you have me," Castiel said softly. "Because the sun rises and sets, Dean. Because I breathe in and out. Because you exist. That's all."

Dean couldn't speak for a moment. He traced Castiel's shoulder. "I don't know what we're doing, Cas, but I'm —" He swallowed and Castiel watched him, the mild expression back. "Thanks," Dean finished lamely. Castiel gazed at him, warmth in his eyes, and Dean had to kiss him for a while.

***

Dean woke in a bed full of crumbs and crumpled paper plates and empty beer bottles rattling against each other. He felt sore and slightly hungover, and annoyed that Castiel had left before he woke.

There was a note on the pillow beside him, written on a piece of motel stationary. Even written in ballpoint pen, Castiel's handwriting was like something of centuries past, more decorative than legible. It took a few minutes of squinting at it for Dean to decipher what it said.

_Dean,_

_Take good care of my property._

_Castiel_

"Presumptuous son of a bitch," Dean muttered, folding it up, but instead of tossing it into the garbage can he put the note in his father's journal. He wished there was some way to answer Castiel without distracting him from whatever his mission was today — some way to tell him, _And you'd better take care of mine._

End


End file.
